The Spirit Rebellion(65)

“Point taken,” Eli said softly, but Josef was already stalking toward the door.

“You deserved that,” Nico said, standing up from the crate she’d been sitting on.

“Thanks,” Eli said sarcastically, but his heart wasn’t in it. He looked over at Nico. “Sure you don’t want a disguise? Just for a change?”

“No.” Nico gave him a little half smile. “Nothing in those crates can do this.”

She stepped forward into a long shadow cast by one of the dividers that separated the windows and vanished. Eli blinked. He’d seen Nico do her shadow thing dozens of times, but never that cleanly. It was like she’d simply disappeared.

“Slorn did a good job with this coat,” she said behind him.

Eli jumped and whirled around. She was several feet away, sitting on a crate a few rows up, shaking her oversized sleeves with a kind of visceral happiness, like a cat playing with a stunned mouse.

“So I see,” Eli said. “Shall we go?”

But the crate was already empty, and Nico winked into existence again beside Josef, who was standing impatiently at the door.

“Right,” Eli muttered, hurrying to catch up.


The city of Gaol was a beautiful, well-laid-out place. Every road was perfectly straight, every house perfectly kept. Small gardens glowed like jewels behind the low stone walls, and every sign was painted in matching colors without a single scuff or faded letter. Even the paving cobbles were set at perfect right angles with their cracks swept meticulously clean.

Over all of this order flowed a constant stream of ordinary people, men and women, with identical swords belted at their sides. They were moving in close knots, talking together in quiet, nervous whispers. None of them looked happy to be there, but they moved at a good pace, making their way toward the citadel at the city center to join the growing crowd.

“Amazing!” Eli stood on tiptoe to get a better look. “It’s like they turned the town upside down, shook out the people, and gave them swords. What is this, community military service?”

“Stop gawking,” Josef said, tugging the thief down by his gaudy coat. “You’re supposed to be a traveling merchant, remember?”

“I think it’s perfectly in character for me to gawk,” Eli said, batting Josef’s hand away. “Haven’t you ever met a merchant?”

They were walking toward the center of town down one of the main roads. Eli, as the merchant, stayed out in front, while Josef, the hired sword, kept a few paces behind. Nico, as usual, was nowhere in sight, but Josef’s practiced eye spotted her flitting in and out of the gloom between the buildings, a tiny, girl-shaped patch of darker shadow. They were following the crowd toward the duke’s fortress, its hulking, boxy shape black against the clear morning sky. Ahead, the road opened out into a square that was even more packed than the street they were on. Eli paused, frowning at the armed crowd, and then, quick as a bird going for cover, ducked into the nearest door, forcing Josef to turn sharp if he wanted to follow.

The doorway led to a bakery. It was a tiny shop, just a few benches and a counter separating the actual ovens from the customers. Still, like everything in Gaol, it was immaculately neat. Boards covered in precise lettering detailed the startling variety of baked goods and sweetmeats the shop offered. Hearing the door, the baker pulled himself away from the small window that overlooked the crowded square and came to the counter, a sour look on his flat face.

At once, Eli launched himself into character, his grin growing snide and arrogant as he flipped a handful of silver bits from the local currency casually between his fingers.

The baker’s expression became infinitely more gracious at the glitter of silver. “What can I get for you, sir?”

“Hmm,” merchant Eli droned, not bothering to look away from the window. “Give me a half dozen of those little fruit things, and a loaf of whatever’s cheap, for my boy here. Something hearty—these swordsmen eat you out of house and home.”

Josef didn’t have to fake his scowl, and the baker’s red face paled. “Of course, sir, at once.”

He went over to the shelves and began pulling things down with the hesitant clumsiness of someone who didn’t usually do this himself.

“Where are your apprentices?” Eli said, casually leaning on the spotless counter. “I can’t imagine you run this shop alone.”

“Oh, no,” the baker said and laughed. “But you know how boys are. They ran off to the square as soon as they heard the news. The duke’s called in the conscriptions, the whole lot, word is.” He huffed as he set out the tarts. “I’m just thankful I got dispensation on account of my shop, or I’d be grabbing my sword too.”